Time's Embrace
by TheRedDeeps
Summary: KOTOR I fanfiction. Revan & Carth postLeviathan, but before Carth's admission of love on the Forbidden World...a piece that explores their conflicted emotions, their doubts and their fears and the question of identity, and what it truly means...


She exhaled.

Slowly, quietly…but the sound was almost deafening. Here, in the dark of her quarters, encompassed by the even darker embrace of space, she lay: alone, bewildered…crushed.

How many days had it been? How many days and nights had she suffocated, smothered by the burden of a hideous past more alien to her than any Selkath or Wookie had ever been…more repulsive and disturbing to her than a Saul Karath, or a Darth Malak.

The pain of understanding; of sick realisation…but how could it be? How could the vivacity, wit and warmth of Zarayne be the product of that wretched, calculating, depraved creature…of _Revan_?

Zarayne sprung from her sheets with feline agility. She walked over to the mirror, tarnished with the omnipresent grease that was an inevitable feature of any hot-blooded starship. She scrutinised her tear stained features: no marks of darkness ate into those soft, empathetic brown eyes…the curve of her mouth was ordinarily warm, hinting at mirth- it could never twist itself into the soulless smirk she had seen painted across many a Sith face.

Perhaps because she wasn't a Sith. She could never be.

But these emotion-driven, internal protests meant nothing. The facts burned a whole through any hope, any defensive impulse of her heart that tried to push the Leviathan into a child's nightmare- a sick woman's feverish vision. The facts, and her heart's urgings, were like oil and water- an incongruous blend.

She felt her fist clench- her insides danced a macabre dance of despairing rage and disbelieving sorrow…she'd just have to accept it. But accept what? Accept that Zarayne was a sad nonentity- a façade; a satin cloth draped over rotting fruit? But just as her truest self railed against the facts, they railed against this misguided conclusion: character was memory. She remembered nothing of Revan. Nothing but the fragments of visions that had always seemed to belong elsewhere: anywhere but her own mind.

But she _remembered_ Zarayne, and she could _feel_ those memories, pulsating through her, mingled with her core like blood between kin…she had lived and breathed those pieces of the past. She _knew_ Zarayne…she _was_ Zarayne.

Zarayne was as sure of this as she was of the Force itself, but her nausea remained…she needed to get out. The walls of her quarters had felt more like a prison of late- during waking hours she was too broken to come out more than was necessary, although she took great pains to disguise her grief from the crew. It hadn't been too successful thus far, she noted wryly to herself, with a somewhat regretful grin. They knew her too well. This thought brought a different sort of smile to her face…

She heard the door shut firmly behind her as she started on what had become habitual since the shattering revelation she now wrestled with- an insomnia induced walk through her ship. It hummed with a life of its own, exuding the same aura as ancient flora- an old but ever comforting friend, with all the unchanging calm of non-sentient life. The hard, steel-like floor felt good beneath her weary, callused feet. Her soft, shadowy green gown whispered against the floor as she walked. Home was in every component, every blinking light, every smear of grease. She exhaled audibly again; this time warm with the nurturing touch of her vessel. And yet…the nausea remained.

Why wouldn't it leave her?

She quickened her pace, and made her way to the cockpit. She knew. Deep down, she knew.

Carth.

He had been there all along: nestled in her mind like a silent, breeding virus. She fought to push him out, to brutally hurl his image into the abyss of unconsciousness. But even there, she could not escape him. He came in dreams, as vivid as life itself: his voice, wrapping around her senses like the poisoned liquors of Korriban. His eyes: so full of hurt, fear, but also of cautious love- in its infancy, but undeniably present. His touch, rough and smooth all at once…a heated heart edged the soldier's gritty hand with silk.

Tears threatened her once more. She struggled, though the struggle was futile: the gut-wrenching force, and painful sincerity of her emotions forbade it. Part of her just didn't want to cast him out of her mind. Part of her wanted to suffer- if suffering meant those soothing night-time visions of his form, when at last she drifted into sleep…even though it meant awakening felt like death. During waking hours, he behaved as though she was nothing more than charred debris from a Sith space-battle. No…less than that.

The thin threads of her dream-like musings snapped abruptly as she entered the cockpit. A surge, a geyser-like gush of hot emotion drowned her, as those eyes, so innocent and weary, turned to meet her own for the first time in many, many days.

They looked yearningly, longingly…hungrily.

"What…what are you doing here?" she said hoarsely. He quickly looked away; his features contorted to a scowl of confused anger- and the spell was broken.

"Couldn't sleep…no, don't bother leaving, I'm going back to my quarters anyway. Goodnight." He barked quickly, with a voice that spoke of a being charged with blended and mangled emotions.

"Stop."

Simple, concise- but as commanding and unbendingly firm as it ever was. He stopped. Both knew it had nothing to do with the Force. One met that fact with renewed hope. The other, with shame and misplaced hate…but buried under them- a sense of relief.

"Look…I thought I made it clear to you earlier. I can't…I don't want to be around you anymore. Not like this. Not on unofficial terms. Not now that I know _what you are_." He blurted out, in a tone that was harsh and rang with acidic bitterness. He couldn't look her in the eye as he said it.

Suddenly, a new emotion sprouted up in Zarayne. One that wasn't passive. She stormily bridged the distance between them and brought them into uncomfortably close proximity to one another. Let him try to avoid me from here! Zarayne thought to herself, seething with unexpressed anger.

"Do you think this is easy for me? Is _that_ what you think? We're up against the Star Forge- we're up against Malak and everything he's got- I'm possessed, haunted by anxieties about what's going to happen to this crew once we get there, and whether or not we can accomplish what we've set out to do, all the while dealing with…a past, a history I knew nothing about. Dealing with these…difficulties, these difficulties that are eating into our…friendship. And-" she gesticulated wildly, searching the room for words that couldn't take shape in her mind.

"And what exactly? What is that supposed to mean to _me_? Poor, martyred Zarayne, it must be so tough discovering the _truth_ about yourself. It must be hard, finding out that you're a murdering, ruthless overlord- a destroyer of planets. And of families…damn. If only you'd been an innocent little orphaned Jawa instead- that would probably have made you feel a whole lot better, right?" he simpered mockingly.

Sarcasm; derisive humour- Carth's ever-present dam against the sinister flood of emotion that menaced him, taunted him. But it didn't offer him protection from the emotions of the woman standing so inescapably close to him.

The pain her slap inflicted as it slammed across his jaw was nothing compared to the shock of it.

"_Grow up_ _Carth_! I didn't kill your wife! I didn't destroy your planet! I…am not…_Revan_!" she clutched as her hair, her fingers like talons, sorrow and frustration written across her face.

"I wish I could erase the past, I wish it had never existed, I wish I could wipe it out with the Force- in reality, not just in memory. But I can't. I _can't_…but that doesn't make me evil, that doesn't make me…_her_. I'm Zarayne. You know Zarayne, Carth. You've known her since you crashed and burned through space…together…clinging to life while all around you was destroyed…while the Endar Spire was destroyed. And you're here with her now. My memories make me who I am, and they don't involve Revan. Your memories of me don't involve her either." Her features softened, pleading with him…

He felt himself weaken a moment. That familiar, all-encompassing weakness at her very presence…it had been part of him for quite some time now. He drank in her form: her unruly hair…as black as bottom of Manaan's waters. It kissed her shoulder blades, visible beneath the thin straps of her nightgown. Her arms…he watched as they hung helplessly at her sides. Her chest, moving in time with her quickened breathing…her quickened heart. Her neck, visible as her chin tilted upward, as it habitually did during a confrontation. Her skin...sculpted by the Sun of her homeworld into a deep gold.

To touch her…but he drove that thought from his mind as quickly as it entered it. Hatred was a more than adequate executioner- it would slay this weakness on his part.

He forced himself to try to believe the lie.

"So what if your memories come back? What then? Do you think I'm going to just lie back and wait for you to stab me in the back? Do you think I'm _stupid_? That I can't learn from my mistakes? That I can't learn from losing everything I'd ever grown to love- that I can't learn from having _my soul ripped out_? Typical _Sith_ arrogance, I should have seen _this_ one coming!" he snarled.

It was too much.

She gripped his shoulders with each of her hands. Hard. He could feel her strength, her hurt and her anger boring into him through the thin, gauze-like material of his shirt.

"I have something I didn't have back then! I have _Zarayne's_ memories! If Revan's memories ever return, they won't _matter_ anymore- they'll be the chapters of a book closed long ago. The echoes of a bygone era. Zarayne will atone for everything Revan did. Zarayne can cope with the knowledge of what she was, by imagining what she still has the chance to be. Revan had nothing but hate, ambition, and allies contingent upon her power. Zarayne has hope, truth, and friends that are more than family. And…Zarayne has you. _Tell me_ Zarayne has you."

This last sentence she whispered fearfully…a sharp contrast to the choked urgency of the rest of her speech.

Silence.

Silence for what seemed like aeons.

All was silent except for the deafening breathing…and the starving gaze held by each.

Zarayne's hands loosened her grip, slid down Carth's shoulders, and arms…and hung at her sides once more. Like those of a broken marionette.

He looked away from her…. he couldn't stand to see what his words had done to her. Even though she deserved them. Even though she had scorched him deep, leaving a wound even more indelible than those that had come before it- even though she had once more awoken the pain he never thought he'd feel again, despite his suspicious veneer.

But she'd awoken something else, also.

Defeated by his silence, she turned to leave. She'd never looked so tired…so faded…so unbearably sad.

She'd never looked so beautiful.

She turned to leave, her back towards him- and Carth suddenly gripped her like a blaster in the midst of battle. He pushed her against the control panel to her immediate left. It connected with her back- it connected with a loud thud. Suddenly he was so warm…so feverish. Their eyes once more bore into one another- speaking the truth their voices so desperately tried to cloak. Hers were wide with fear…he thought it was fear of the unknown. In fact, it was the fear of _knowing_. Of finally understanding. A new shape, a new manifestation of the fear that had earlier threatened to consume her. The first had been destructive. This one…was strangely beautiful. And welcome.

He kissed her. Passionately, urgently…she melted into it at first. But then kissed back, with equal if not greater fervour. He soaked her in, his senses awash with her…the feel of her skin as his fingers closed around her arms, then travelled up to her neck…then embedded themselves in her hair. His lips moved away from hers, and connected with her chin, and then her throat. She tasted so warm…so pure. So free of the darkness his mind had tainted her with. She breathed so very, very deeply…her hands against the sides of his face, she gently pulled him up to meet her mouth once more.

It was intoxicating- it was freedom. Freedom from all the nightmare-like confusion, all the complex emotional wrestling…it felt like _truth_.

They paused briefly, breaking their kisses to catch their breath. She looked at him with eyes glazed over with euphoria. She smiled, her eyes crinkling as her cheeks rose with unadulterated joy, her teeth visible: the same smile that wove its way through all his precious memories of their time together. The smile that never changed. Every time he saw that smile…it was like his lacerated heart healed instantly. Her joy gave rise to his.

"I love you."

And then it hit him. It pierced him like a treacherous Mandalorian blade. Somebody else had uttered those same words once. Somebody he had loved. Somebody whose warmth bore similarities to the one who uttered them now. Somebody who didn't deserve this betrayal.

How could he caress her killer? _How could he?_

He didn't know what hurt more. His actions, or his hopelessly blurred intentions.

Grief conquered him. His eyes filled with tears, and he backed away from her.

Zarayne reached out for him, radiating concern- her mouth open in shock.

"I…I can't. No. No. I can't be in love with…a _killer_." He turned sharply, and walked out…his every step dogged by grief. And the other emotion…the raging, all-encompassing emotion he couldn't come to terms with.

Zarayne didn't try to stop him. She slid down the control panel, and hugged her knees to her chest. Her nausea had left her. She hurt for Carth's hurt, but the nausea was entirely absent, as though it had never been there. It left her, because she knew Carth wasn't in love with a killer after all.

He was in love with her.

Come what may, she knew there'd come a time when memory would hold true. Unbreakable threads of time bound them together; Fate and the Force melded their hearts and spilled each into the other.

And would do forever…once he _remembered_.


End file.
